


Solar Flare

by paigemccullers



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, and trying not to do that whole caring thing, because that's for losers clarke, lexa training clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigemccullers/pseuds/paigemccullers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Clarke.” Suddenly Lexa is the only thing she can see.</p>
<p>Maybe that’s not the worst thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solar Flare

**Author's Note:**

> This relationship makes me want to look directly into the camera like I'm on the office.
> 
> (Enjoy! Maybe? Who am I to tell you how to feel?)

The twig snaps loudly beneath her boot.

Clarke looks down, as if she’s just trodden on a buried mine. Lexa spins around, eyes wide and angry. Clarke hears foreign battle cries before she has a second to think. Lexa’s warriors draw their weapons.

The Commander growls low in her throat, she glares at Clarke and takes the steps necessary to close the gap between them. She grabs a handful of Clarke’s jacket and hurls her up against a tree.

She seethes quietly, takes in short breaths between clenched teeth. Clarke gulps down her panic and opens her mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry.” She breathes out shakily. Lexa stares at her a little longer, some kind of somber look flickers behind her eyes before she shoves Clarke’s back into the tree with a little more force than needs be.

“Stay here.” She draws her sword. “ _Hide._ ” Clarke _swears_ she sees Lexa’s gaze soften the second before she turns to run into battle but she can’t be sure. She wants to call after Lexa, to tell her that she can fight, because she _can_ , her finger’s automatically clasp around the cool metal of the gun at her hip.

But for whatever reason, she does what she’s told. She stays. She hides.

She _glares_ at the twig.

-

The walk back to camp is _uncomfortable_ to say the least. Lexa looks anywhere but at Clarke, they didn’t lose any men in the battle but they could’ve done without it. They’re two hours late and it’s dark before they reach the Commander’s tent.

Lexa turns to Clarke finally.

“Go home, Clarke.” She turns and enters her tent without another word. Indra moves to follow the Commander, staring Clarke down every second of the way.

“What did you _do?”_ Octavia grabs Clarke’s wrist and drags her away from the guards. Clarke huffs and puts a hand to her forehead.

“I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just-” Clarke’s frustrated, because really, all she did was stand on a damn _twig_.

Yes, okay, said twig gave away their position and started a minor league war, but she didn’t _mean_ _to_ , it’s not like she’s going to police every step she takes. Octavia shushes her before she has chance to say anything else. The warrior tugs at her wrist again, pulling them closer to the side of Lexa’s tent. Clarke listens as Indra and Lexa argue in words she doesn’t understand. Their voices are hushed but sharp, Indra’s insistent but Lexa’s defensive.

“They’re talking about you.” Octavia narrows her eyes as if that’ll help her hear any better. Clarke stays silent and waits for more. “Indra doesn’t want you near the Commander anymore.” Octavia speaks over her shoulder.

It’s not exactly brand new information, but her stomach drops anyway.

“I’m going to bed.” She murmurs then tugs her wrist from Octavia’s grasp and walks away.

-

“Clarke.” She jolts awake and sits bolt upright. Her head swims with a sleep that she’d only just fallen into. The world’s bright outside and Clarke has to squint to stop the sunlight from blinding her. She sees Lexa standing at the foot of her bed, she looks the same, only, there’s less war paint on her face and less armor covering her body. Clarke thinks this is as close to casual as she’ll ever see the Commander.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice comes out dry and quiet.

“Get dressed, we’re leaving.” Lexa nods and exits the tent abruptly. Clarke wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, to forget about the war, forget about the people she has to protect, to forget about _Lexa_. But Clarke knows she shouldn’t keep the other girl waiting. So she does what she’s told and meets Lexa outside her tent. There’s a guard at each of her shoulders.

“Where are we going?”

“You will see.” Clarke thinks she sees a small smirk playing on Lexa’s lips and for a second, Clarke thinks maybe Lexa’s marching her to her death; maybe the day before had been the final straw. Clarke’s a burden they’re no longer willing to carry. But she wants to believe she knows the Commander a little better than that, Lexa may be many things but she’s not one for pointless deaths.

Because it would be pointless. Wouldn’t it?

Clarke chews on her lip as her brain begins it’s own internal debate.

They end up mounting horses and riding toward the ocean. Clarke feels the salty fresh air dancing across her skin; she can’t help the smile that tugs the corners of her lips upward. The sun feels warmer and everything’s a little brighter, Clarke closes her eyes and grips at the reins. She soaks up the world at it’s best and pretends nothing else exists.

Clarke despises the years spent in the sky.

She doesn’t see the way Lexa looks at her then, she doesn’t see the timid smile, the curious eyes, the crack in her walls, she doesn’t see Lexa looking at her like she’s a mystery to be solved _._

It’s only a few minutes later when Lexa calls them to a halt. She speaks to her men in her own tongue before dismounting the horse, Clarke gets the message and follows suit. She gives the two men one last word before she looks to Clarke and gestures off in a certain direction. Lexa’s men don’t follow.

“Where are we?”

Lexa doesn’t reply and after a few more minutes, she sees why.

The beach is _amazing_ , Clarke wants to laugh and run and twirl around in circles until she falls down. She doesn’t know why. She hasn’t felt this way since- Well, she can’t remember.

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice comes out a lot softer than she intended it to. Lexa’s eyes are kind and there’s a small smile playing on her lips. Clarke wants to compare it to the sunshine on her skin, she wants to take a picture, she wants to sketch this moment into something. Her memory will have to do.

“We are not here to witness its beauty, Clarke.” Lexa begins to walk away, Clarke follows. “Your feet are heavy and clumsy, we cannot have another _incident_ like the one we experienced yesterday.” Clarke immediately feels embarrassed.

“My feet aren’t clumsy.” Clarke sounds more like a grumpy child than anything else.

Lexa brings them to a stop. They’re stood before a rockier section of the beach, the only thing separating them from the long belt of turquoise-blue water.

“You must learn stealth. If we are caught out again-” Lexa turns to Clarke with a fire in her eyes. Clarke thinks maybe the other girl’s gaze could melt her down, that’s when Clarke thinks that maybe, Lexa _is_ the sun. “Things are going to get worse. If you are to walk with us, you _must_ learn how.”

“Oh.” Clarke feels so small.

“You’re going to walk, from this side to that,” Lexa points at where the bigger rocks begin only a few feet away from them to a point in the distance. “It will be complex to begin with, but in time you will progress. Your mind and body _must_ work together to avoid injury.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Now is not the time for jokes, _Clarke_.”

“Sorry.” Clarke huffs. She understands what Lexa wants her to do, but really, it doesn’t look _that bad_. Walking from one side of the beach to the other on a bunch of rocks? Clarke dares to use the word “ _easy_ ”.

“Watch your footing carefully.” Lexa warns. There’s a strange seriousness to her voice, which Clarke doesn’t really get, because, honestly, Clarke’s _literally_ just going for a walk along the beach. Lexa is telling her to take a leisurely stroll.

Clarke lets her jacket fall from her shoulders; she drops it next to Lexa’s feet and hops across a few rows of rocks before steadying herself and looking back to Lexa warily. The girl nods.

“Only one foot to each rock!” Lexa calls over. Clarke nods, mostly to herself. It’s not as easy as she thought, but it’s still pretty simple. She manages to balance all the way there and back. She approaches Lexa with a grin on her lips.

“You did well.”

“Are you telling me we came all the way here just so I could do that?” Lexa’s lips slowly widen into a grin.

“That was not stealth, Clarke. You’re just as clumsy here as you were in the trees. You must learn to walk before you can run. Training takes time, you must be patient.”

“But- I don’t understand? I did exactly what you told me to.” Clark’s brow furrows in confusion, _of course_ there would be some kind of catch. Lexa juts out her chin and puffs out her chest a little, the smile long gone from her features.

“Yes, you did and if you continue to do as I say, there is a good chance you will not break your neck.” Clarke knows she means that literally. Lexa begins to peel away the last of her armor. Clarke notes that the Commander keeps her sword across her back. “Today, you learn, you walk.” Lexa steps onto the bigger stones.

Clarke folds her arms and raises her eyebrows as if expecting Lexa to do the exact same as what she’d just done herself.

She did not, however, expect the brunette to take off at speed toward the other end of the beach. Lexa’s feet found rocks easily, she never slipped, she never let her focus waver, she was _amazing_. Clarke watched, mouth slightly agape, as Lexa slowed her speed to a jog when she neared the end of the beach. Lexa turns easily and hops from one rock to the next before gaining speed once more and sprinting back in Clarke’s direction.

Clarke pretends not to notice Lexa’s smug smirk as she pulls her armor back around her body.

“Patience, Clarke.”

-

They go to the beach whenever they can. Leaders don’t often get a lot of free time so they make do with what they can. It’s often in the morning. Lexa comes for Clarke just after the light begins to hit the trees. It’s not long til Clarke finds herself waiting for Lexa to show up.

Clarke, for the most part, has no idea how Lexa does it. How she runs like the ground is solid beneath her feet when it’s not. The ground is slippery and wet; it’s jagged, sharp, uneven, _unstable_.

It frustrates Clarke.

Lexa keeps telling her,

“Patience, _Clarke_.”

“Use your eyes, _Clarke_.”

“Don’t look up, _Clarke.”_

And _yes_ , okay, Clarke likes the way her name drips from Lexa’s lips like syrup. She likes how Lexa’s eyes follow her as if she’s the most important thing around. She likes the way Lexa seems to care even though she claims that she _doesn’t_.

But above all of that, above _Lexa_ , she’s frustrated. She’s annoyed and hot and sweating like her body wants to do nothing more.

She understands what she has to do.

She understands that her eyes have to be quicker than her mind, she understands how she has to find a sure path, even if it’s not the quickest, she understands that there’s no way of knowing which rocks are unstable and which rocks aren’t (even though Lexa tells her that it is possible.)

Clarke _understands_ but that doesn’t stop her from letting out a frustrated shout when she trips and falls to her knees.

It’s been weeks now and she still isn’t above a brisk walking pace.

It’s beginning to grind on her neves.

“Again.” Lexa insists, like she always does. Clarke glares down at the rocks beneath her and pushes up. Her skin burns, her hands are scraped and bloody, her feet are raw and she doesn’t even want to look at her knees.

She doesn’t want to do as she’s told.

But she does, because Lexa’s _smart_ and Clarke thinks she trusts her.

-

“Clarke!”

Clarke ignores Lexa’s protests. She’s had enough, they’ve been at it for months now and all she wants to do is _run_. She knows she can do it if she really tries, if she _really_ focuses on where her feet are landing.

“Clarke, _stop_!”

Lexa’s eyes are fire; her body stands rigid with her hands balled into fists at the sides. Clarke’s tempted to think that Lexa’s _worried_. Clarke doesn’t know why she cares about that.

She doesn’t know why she cares about the way Lexa may or may not feel about her.

Because it shouldn’t matter.

Clarke doesn’t stop running.

She’s _good_. She calculates her path easily now, she knows where to step and she even knows which rocks might move beneath her feet. Clarke thinks she’s ready to run, even if Lexa does _not._

She reaches the end of the beach; Clarke can practically taste the victory on her tongue. She turns and runs back, she glances up for half a second, just to see the look on Lexa’s face.

And of course, her foot slips.

She should have seen this coming because Lexa knows better; she always has and probably always will. She hates that. She hates that, once again, she was wrong. She despises the fact that Lexa will probably only remember this wrong when she’s done _so much more_ right.

Her hands fly out towards the ground in a feeble attempt to soften the blow but Clarke knows she’s going down. _Hard._ One hand clasps firmly around a rock, the other misses and her wrist twists angrily. Clarke topples one way and she can feel her body contorting around the sharp edges beneath her.

Lexa’s going to give her hell for this.

That’s the first thing she thinks when her head finally cracks against a dull rock.

She breathes heavily, forcing the pain in her body out through teeth in big, sharp gasps.

Yes, this is definitely not good.

After a few seconds assessing which parts of her body hurt more than others, she attempts to push herself up. Clarke angles her back against a bigger rock and leans against it, legs jutting up towards her chest. From what she can see, she’s not done herself any major damage.

“Clarke.” Suddenly Lexa is the only thing she can see.

Maybe that’s not the worst thing.

“You are not ready to run!” Lexa crouches before her. Clarke watches the way Lexa’s eyes dart left to right, giving her a once over. Clarke lets out an involuntary groan and shuffles herself into a more comfortable position, if that’s actually a thing that exists.

Lexa reaches forward and cups Clarke’s jaw.

Clarke feels a rush from deep in her stomach; it reaches the end of every nerve and tints her cheeks pink. Her eyes connect with Lexa’s and she swallows thickly. They don’t really touch; there isn’t usually a reason to.

Lexa’s fingers are soft and gentle and everything Clarke _didn’t_ expect. Her eyes are wide and fearful and Clarke wonders if Lexa knows her own body is betraying her.

“You’re bleeding.” Lexa states, her voice still strong but the undertones of concern give her away. Clarke doesn’t know what to say.

However, she _does_ know that she doesn’t want Lexa to stop touching her.

Lexa’s fingers trace Clarke’s face, from her jaw to her cheek to her forehead. Lexa says something else but Clarke doesn’t hear. She’s too busy staring at Lexa like she’s the sun and wanting nothing more than to burn.

Lexa’s words fade out and the world suddenly starts to tilt and darken. Clarke says Lexa’s name breathlessly but she doesn’t even know if the word leaves her lips.

-

She’d sprained a wrist, earned herself a mild concussion and bruised a couple of ribs.

Clarke sleeps for a day and doesn’t see Lexa for a week. She feels like everything’s been thrown off balance. She still wakes early in the mornings and feels restless throughout the days.

She doesn’t know where Lexa is or why the girl’s avoiding her. Clarke thinks that maybe she accidentally offended her in some way by disobeying her orders. Clarke wouldn’t blame her for being _pissed_ but she also wouldn’t expect something like this from the Commander.

Lexa doesn’t exactly _feel_ things, that’s what most people think anyway. She does anger well, hate too, any kind of emotion that involves bloodshed basically.

(Clarke sees past that though. Lexa cares, not in a big, colorful way, but she does.)

So why isn’t she waking Clarke up at ridiculous-o-clock? Why is she letting Clarke off easy? Indra barely waited a day before beginning Octavia’s training.

What makes this any different?

-

“Hey.”

“Clarke.”

“Where have you been?”

“Here.”

Clarke narrows her eyes over the table at the Commander. Lexa leans over the map, her eyes never finding Clarke’s. Clarke takes a step closer to Lexa, she doesn’t miss the way the other girl tenses, she doesn’t miss the way Lexa’s light breaths almost stop.

“Are you busy?”

Lexa huffs out a frustrated breath. Clarke doesn’t like the fact that she’s the one that caused it.

“Not now, Clarke.” Clarke understands the double meaning and leaves shortly after.

Lexa watches her walk away until she’s out of sight.

-

Another week passes by before Clarke takes matters into her own hands.

If Lexa doesn’t want to train her anymore, she’ll just have to train herself. She knows what she’s doing, she can do it on her own, she’s sure. So she takes a horse and rides to the beach, she knows the way by heart.

It’s… It’s _different_ , training without Lexa. She doesn’t enjoy it as much, time seems to move slower and it feels a little pointless, though she knows it isn’t in the long run. She feels like a fool, jogging from one side of the beach to the other over and over again. The only thing that keeps her going is the knowledge that no one’s watching her. (The thought of a proud Lexa isn’t too bad either.)

She misses Lexa’s criticism.

The pointlessness begins to seep deeper into her skin, after one last lap, she hops off the stones and onto the sand.

She tries to shake the uneasy feeling in her gut. The feeling you get when your schedule is pristine and then someone goes and throws a spanner in the works. It’s just annoying.

Her pulse is just beginning to slow when she hears footsteps behind her. Clarke reaches for her gun and turns ready to shoot.

Lexa’s lips quirk upward just the slightest.

“Hello, Clarke.”

She thinks she’ll never get bored of hearing Lexa speak her name. Clarke drops her gun and pushes it into the sand next to her, not even entertaining the thought of what could’ve happened if she’d pulled the trigger without thinking. Clarke turns her back to Lexa and pulls her knees up to her chest.

“What’re you doing here?”

Lexa doesn’t move for a while.

Then she sits beside Clarke, folding her legs together, placing a palm on either knee. They both stare out at the ocean, listening to the waves lapping against the rocks across from their feet.

“I heard you left camp without any guardsmen.” Clarke scoffs and rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. “My men are trustworthy, they _will_ accompany you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want their company.” Clarke says bitterly. Lexa looks at her with an unreadable expression.

“You will get yourself killed. You’re being childish.”

“Oh, _I’m_ being childish?” Clarke laughs dryly, finally turning to catch Lexa’s eyes. She wishes she hadn’t. There’s always been some weird intensity within her eyes that made Clarke’s chest tighten.

“I’m not here to argue with you, Clarke.”

“Then why _are_ you here?” Clarke refuses to look away now; she won’t let Lexa win this one. Lexa’s gaze drops for a second but she recovers quickly and clenches her jaw. Clarke waits for her to say something, but nothing ever comes. Lexa just sits and stares at her.

Lexa’s eyes aren’t cold like they usually are when they’re at camp; they’re soft and apologetic and maybe even a little sad.

“We should go.” Clarke finally says pushing herself up. She offers Lexa a hand; the Commander eyes it warily for a couple of seconds before taking it and pulling herself to her feet.

Clarke stumbles forward when Lexa tugs a little too hard at Clarke’s wrist. Lexa releases her hand like it’s white hot.

“I’m sorry.”

Clarke thinks this is the first time she’s heard the Commander apologize.

“It’s fine.”

-

Clarke stares at the ceiling. It’s late and dark out but she’s awake, _wide awake_ and bored as hell. She doesn’t remember being a morning person. She remembers times where she’d threaten her mother with the silent treatment if she even _dared_ to try to wake her. Mornings were just never her thing. That was, until Lexa started training her.

The nights were what she craved.

Cool, dark and heavy. Things left unsaid during the days were blurted out at night, regrets were pushed aside and forgotten, nights felt like they would last forever.

Clarke loved that.

What she didn’t like was the way her brain worked. The way her brain thought about _every single thing_ , even if Clarke didn’t want to think about it, her brain would disagree and decide to start its own _damn_ monologue.

That’s probably why she can’t stop thinking about Lexa.

It’s probably why she’s feeling everything at the same time. So much so that she thinks her chest might cave in on itself or maybe catch fire. Lexa’s a human contradiction. Cold but Clarke only wants to compare her to the sun. Dark like the night but Clarke remembers their early mornings and how she didn’t mind being awake before the sky.

Clarke grips at the sheets that cover her and groans internally.

She ends up outside Lexa’s tent. The guards see her approaching and turn their backs just before she enters. Clarke’s a little breathless when she sees Lexa dressed in a simple shirt and dark pants. There’s no paint dripping from her eyes and no scowl plastered on her lips.

Clarke’s stomach flips and suddenly she _knows_.

“Clarke.” Lexa stands a little taller and clenches her jaw; she’s surprised but not angry. “What can I do for you?” Clarke shakes her head.

“Nothing.” Lexa narrows her eyes. Clarke realizes she should probably have had some sort of game plan ready before she came. “I can run now.” Clarke says lamely. Lexa’s gaze turns down to her feet for a second.

“I am not surprised. You’ve been training hard.” She smiles, genuinely, Clarke thinks and that warms her all the way up to her cheeks. She smiles back because there’s physically no way she _can’t._

“I just wanted to say thank you.” She shrugs. “For helping me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clarke holds her breath as she holds Lexa’s gaze, her jaw slackens as she tries to think of the reason she even stepped foot in the Commander’s tent in the first place. Lexa starts to turn away.

“Why did you stop?” Clarke practically blurts out. Lexa freezes; Clarke sees the way her fingers twitch. “After I fell?”

“Clarke-” Lexa stops herself, her mouth open around a word that hasn’t formed yet. Clarke takes a couple of steps forward so they’re only an arms length apart. Lexa closes her mouth and breathes in deeply through her nose. Clarke thinks she looks a little intimidated or maybe even _nervous?_

“There isn’t a reason.”

“That’s a lie.” Clarke challenges with a dry laugh, because she knows it’s a lie, Lexa _can’t_ lie; it’s one of the first things she learnt about the Commander. Clarke shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair. “I just-”

“I cared.”

“Huh?”

“You fell and I cared.” Lexa glares straight into Clarke’s eyes, Clarke swallows dryly. “I didn’t like it.”

“You mean you felt something besides hate and anger?” Clarke raises an eyebrow. Lexa purses her lips. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Lexa.”

“Yes,” Lexa takes a step backwards and just like that, Clarke sees her defenses building themselves back up. “There is. It’s weakness.”

“So _what?”_ Clarke moves forward again and Lexa finds herself without anywhere to go. “Weakness makes us human, Lexa. No matter how hard you try to make it go away, it’s always going to be there.”

“I can’t afford to think that way, Clarke. Neither can you.” Lexa rolls her shoulders back and pushes forward but Clarke doesn’t retreat, she stares up into Lexa’s fiery eyes and refuses to lose.

“Yes I can, you know why?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Because I’m _strong_ enough, because feeling weak is just another part of living. If letting others in, if letting others see who you _really_ are is weakness then I’m weak. I’m so weak, Lexa. I’d rather be weak and _feel_ something than go through life not living.”

Clarke doesn’t even bother sticking around long enough to hear what Lexa has to say. She’s done with being told how to feel and what to do. She’s finished with doing as she’s told. Clarke knows she’s smart and she doesn’t need anyone to verify that for her.

She doesn’t need Lexa.

She doesn’t.

-

The sand beneath her is too hot. It’s irritating and getting in her hair and her boots but she’s too exhausted to move. Her chest heaves with every breath. Clarke folds her arms over her eyes to shield them from the sun’s rays.

Clarke’s never run as fast across the rocks before, she’s excited but also drained, tired and uncomfortable. She’s been lying flat out for the last five minutes but she still can’t work up the willingness to move.

Her face suddenly feels cool and the light behind her eyelids seems darker than before. She moves her arms and finds a figure staring down at her.

“I could have easily killed you.” Lexa’s tone comes across irritated but calm. The blood still pumps loudly through Clarke’s ears.

“That’s comforting.” She grumbles and sits up crossing her legs in front of her. She bows her head and draws pictures in the sand with her fingertips, not really interested in having round two with Lexa right now.

“I saw you running. You looked strong.”

“That’s because I am.” Clarke mumbles out, only sparing Lexa a brief side-glance.

“Clarke-”

“I don’t want to argue again, Lexa.” Clarke really doesn’t. She doesn’t want to see that look on Lexa’s face again, the one she wore the night before, the confusion mixed with anger. She’s kind of fed up of being let down by the people she likes the most.

“I’m not here to argue.” Clarke hears Lexa’s tone, it’s different, she’s only heard it a couple of times before. She remembers the time she fell. Clarke stays silent, she owes Lexa nothing, well, she actually owes Lexa a _lot_ but that’s beside the point. Lexa sits down next to her.

“It _is_ beautiful.” Lexa observes slowly, staring out at the many shades of blue. One corner of Clarke’s lips quirks upward just the slightest.

“We’re not here to witness its beauty.” Clarke mocks Lexa playfully. Lexa chuckles softly and turns to Clarke; she feels her cheeks heat up under her gaze.

“Maybe we are.” It’s almost a whisper and Clarke’s intrigued. She looks up at Lexa. The other girl looks serene, she looks warm and open and Clarke thinks she might just be a little bit terrified by the way it makes her feel.

And that thought annoys Clarke more than anything else.

Clarke’s eyes dip downward to Lexa’s lips. She knows she shouldn’t, she knows it’s a bad move. A move that will most likely have consequences. Clarke sees Lexa’s lips part just the slightest.

“We need to leave.” Lexa says, her voice dry and broken. It comes out a slurred whisper. Clarke thinks it suddenly just got a thousand degrees hotter. They stand and turn to each other but make no effort to move. Clarke can’t help when her eyes dart downward again.

“ _Clarke.”_

Clarke needs Lexa to stop saying her name like that, like it’s so important, like it means everything.

It sounds like something Clarke wants to taste.

She raises her hands, pulls at the front of Lexa’s armor and pushes up onto her tiptoes.

Clarke kisses her and that’s when she knows that the sun has _nothing_ on Lexa.

Lexa’s lips are chapped but soft and they make her feel like she’s somewhere else, somewhere where she’s not fighting for her life. It’s a few seconds before Lexa kisses her back harder, she opens her mouth and bites down on Clarke’s lower lip softly. Clarke’s not even embarrassed when a low moan escapes her throat.

Clarke grips tighter to Lexa’s front and pushes back, Lexa’s hands find Clarke’s hips and she feels the electricity of the girls touch. She kisses Lexa hungrily and doesn’t come up for air until Lexa pulls back just the slightest.

When Clarke opens her eyes Lexa’s already staring back. Clarke swears she’s never seen the girl’s eyes so alive. Lexa smiles, it’s small but it’s there and it’s caring.

“We should go.” Lexa’s _totally_ using that breathy, husky tone on purpose. Clarke shakes her head and smiles.

“ _Not yet._ ”


End file.
